 | Cheerfull Ayres or Ballads, First composed for one single Voice and since set for three Voices by John Wilson |  |
To the great Master of Musick Dr J. WILSON upon his most excellent Book of Ayres.
The soul's a Symphony: Th'harmonious blast,The perfect Ayre of the great Protoplast.
No wonder then if thy Diviner Note
Betray my soul, make mine invention dote.
Stir'd by thy Musick from each melting string,
Didst thou not Cheat me of my soule, I'de sing,
I'de Praise thy Vertues; but thy sweetest Quire,
Bids me give audience only, and Admire.
Each stroake speaks WILSON and whoever plays
Sings a new Anthem to his lasting praise.
'Tis WILSON speakes, each neatly-warbled straine
Is but the Echo of th'inventors braine.
Not Death, nor Time can e're eclipse thy Fame,
While each string, from thy Book, thus sounds thy Name.
Ne're feare Oblivion then: Thy Glory shall,
Know none, but what's the worlds great Funerall.
N. M.
| Cheerfull Ayres or Ballads, First composed for one single Voice and since set for three Voices by John Wilson | |